Baby, Cats, and Owls
by weapon13WhiteFang
Summary: Three times Guerrero ran into unexplainable and magical events. Inspired by cedricowner's HP/HT crossovering stories


**Authoress Note: **I'm trying to get my writers block down and when I saw cedricsowner do the Harry Potter crossover pieces, my mind was in a tizzle of small ideas to work with, so I grabbed them happily and now you have this :P

**Extra Note: **Some of it is AU Harry Potter world wise, but that shouldn't be to much of a problem wise, right? It is fanfiction :3

**Baby**

"Dude this place gives me the creeps."

Junior continued on, ignoring his partners obvious annoyance at being dragged into the ruble remains of a house. Far away it had looked like a simple home. But upon closer inspection, he could see something bad had happened here.

Now normally he wouldn't bother with some old house. But he had heard something. A noise... A baby crying, to be clear. Guerrero had said he was loosing it and hearing things, but he knew what he had heard! It was a baby crying inside house.

Jogging up to the door, Junior, gun ready like he had been taught, budged the door open, surprised to find it was unlocked. Pushing it open, he looked back at Guerrero, before trudging forward carefully. The house, if not for the air of dread, would have been a pleasant place to live. Cozy, spacious... And oddly decorated in places.

Stepping over a piece of ceiling that had fallen, Junior's eyes widened at the sight of a body. A male, possibly in his early twenties with unruly black hair and a slightly long nose, stared lifelessly at the stairway he lay at the base of. "Dude..." Guerrero whispered, stepping around to lean over the body, as Junior looked around. There was no gunshots or blood anywhere. A struggle had occurred, that much was certain...But as for the weapon, he saw nothing.

Guerrero stood up and shook his head. "Dead, dude. No sign of how, though..." the older male trailed off and Junior could tell he was as puzzled over the man's death as he was. "Waaahhh! Aaaahh!" Juniors head snapped to the left and looked up at the top of the stairs. There it was! A baby crying.

The child let out another terrified cry before Junior, gun out and ready, ran up the stairs. He could hear Guerrero close behind him as Junior followed the child's cry and carefully pushed open the door. He felt sadness grip him, as laying lifeless on the ground was a beautiful woman with strawberry blonde hair and lifeless green eyes.

She was lifeless beside a crib, where a small, chubby little child sat. He had unruly black hair like the males, but his eyes were a similar green to the woman's. The strangest thing, however, was that on his forehead was a fresh scaring cut in the shape of a lightning bolt.

The child stared up at them, his eyes full of tears and his nose running. His little hands gripped the bars of his crib as he hiccuped sadly, looking as helpless as a baby could be. Junior stared at the child, before quietly stuffing his gun in it's holder, and quietly walking over to the kid.

"Junior?" Guerrero asked, as he picked up the child as carefully as he could, not having much experience with kids, but knowing they had to be handled carefully. "Dude, no... We can't take him with us." Junior looked from the child to Guerrero then back. Guerrero let out a groan. "Dude! Seriously! We can't take the kid! Someone will come looking for him eventually! We gotta get before they do get here."

Junior ignored him and pushed past him. He couldn't keep the kid, sure, but maybe he could get him to a neighbor's house and they could call the police and they could get the boy to family if he had any. He heard Guerrero groan as he followed Junior down the stairs, before they slipped out the door, the child remaining as quiet as surprisingly possible for a child, making Junior believe the kid knew he needed to be quiet.

"'Ey! You put him down, you!" Junior, instincts and training kicking in, quickly grabbed his gun and pointed at where the voice had come, hearing Guerrero do the same. He was almost floored, however, at the sight of a fairly tall and largely built man with wild brown hair and a beard and big beetle black eyes. Oddly enough, the tall male was pointing a pink umbrella at them?

Junior cocked his head and pulled the child closer to him, the gun on the mans chest. "Who are you?" he asked the large male. The man almost seemed to growl, as he kept his umbrella pointed at them. "You put dat boy down ya Death Eater scum! He's just a baby he is! Put him down!"

Death Eater? What was a Death Eater? Junior had never heard of such a thing. Guerrero, however, had it seemed. "Dude this just got a lot more serious. Death Eaters are these freaks in cloak. Not sure how they do it, but if they want you dead, you're dead."

Junior caught on. The man thought they were part of this Death Eater group. Not wanting to start anything under false assumption, Junior carefully put the gun away and held up his free hand. "We're not Death Eaters... Who are you?"

The man seemed conflicted for awhile, his umbrella lowering slowly, as Guerrero put away his gun, catching onto what Junior was trying to do. Good. It would be easier if the older male played along. "My names Junior," he pressed on. "This is my partner-" he was cut off by Guerrero. "Braxton."

Junior raised a brow at the name, but kept quiet as the man finally lowered his umbrella and stuffed it away, grumbling something about "time" and "muggles". What was a muggle? "Hagrid. I was sent to get the boy by orders of Albus Dumbledore himself!" he seemed to puff up at that and Junior furrowed his brow. Albus Dumbledore? Again, something he didn't understand. Who was Albus Dumbledore?

Guerrero, however, relaxed at the name. "Dude, he's cool. Never met the guy but heard about him. If he's here for the kid, he's safe." Again, Junior was puzzled. Death Eaters, muggles, giant men with umbrellas and strange names? This night was defiantly on his weird list.

In his arms, he noticed, the child had fallen asleep, his little thumb in his mouth and head resting on Juniors shoulder. Smiling a little, Junior walked up to the large man and carefully handed him the child. If Guerrero said he could be trusted, this Albus Dumbledore and Hagrid, then he was inclined to believe him. Guerrero didn't label a lot of people trustworthy.

The baby fit perfectly in Hagrid's large hands, as he reached in his pocket of his large coat and pulled out a baby blanket and rapped the boy snugly in it. "Sorry about threatening ya with this," the taller man apologized, tapping the umbrella. "Can't be to careful now a days. Even with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named supposedly dead and all." Hagrid grinned and tucked the child close to him. Junior stepped back as the large male looked sadly at the house behind them, before looking at the boy and nodding his thanks, before lumbering down the street and around a corner.

Junior looked from the house to where the large man had been standing, to Guerrero and raised a brow. What exactly had just happened tonight? Guerrero, seeming to read his mind, shrugged, before walking to his car, which was parked in the opposite direction the man had went. Junior took one last look down the road and at the house, before jogging to catch up. Their mission was done. He was just ready to get home.

**Cats**

It was just sitting there.

Guerrero sat up against the wall, clutching his bloody side, his breathing a little worn. But he was breathing at least. He squinted past his bangs, which were soaked and stuck to his head. Damn his eye sight was starting to waver on him. He hated the ideal, but perhaps, like his father, he'd have to get glasses.

But even though his eye sight was starting to lack, he knew he wasn't bad enough to be seeing things. He knew that he was really seeing a tabby orange cat sitting across from him calmly and staring at him, unblinking. It was the weirdest and most unnatural thing he'd seen. And he'd seen a lot in his line of work.

Wincing, he gripped his side harder. Damn! Those morons had gotten him pretty good. Sure the knife hadn't killed him, and at least he'd gotten away... But the fact that he had even gotten hurt was enough to put him in a slightly sour mood along with his pain. He'd made a rookie mistake. And that mistake could have been his life.

… And the cat was still there? He glared at the cat. He hated cats. They were pompous and needed to much attention and cleaning from all the shedding they did. He remembered his mother had one. He use to trip on that damn thing all the time. He hated them back then to. "Scat cat," he grumbled, tossing a rock at the creature, hitting it on its head. The cat, however, didn't move. It simply tilted it's head slightly to continue looking at him.

Definitely the strangest cat he'd ever seen. Having enough, he did his best to ignore the cat as he peeled off his shirt, wincing. He needed to find a way to clean the wound. Who knows if that knife was sterile or not. But... He had nothing to clean it with. The best he could do is tie it off to stop the bleeding and try to get to one of his back alley doctors before he passed out from blood lose.

Ripping his shirt, he winced as he began to wrap himself up, his eyes focusing in on the cat, who was now on all four paws and looking at the opening of the alley. He furrowed his brow as the cat gracefully took off and around the corner, disappearing. Good riddance. The creature was staring to annoy him.

"Hello? Is somebody here?" Guerrero was pulled from bandaging his wound as he looked up to find a woman of average weight and height and dark, almost black, hair and brown eyes dressed in a sweater and jeans and simple tennis shoes. Her eyes landed on Guerrero, and she quickly ran over to him, her shoulder bag sliding off and to the ground as she crouched before him. "Oh my God," she whispered,"are you OK sir?"

Guerrero blinked in surprise. He hadn't made any noise. How had she know he was back here? His senses on alert, he grabbed her wrist roughly before she could touch his side, causing her to gasp in pain and surprise. "How did you know I was here?" his tone was low and threatening, offering now room for lies.

The woman blinked at him and blushed sheepishly. "A cat...I followed a cat... That cat," with her free hand she pointed down the alley, and Guerrero turned to find, much to his surprise, the cat from before, sitting at the edge of the alley way, staring at them. "You followed... A cat?" he scoffed in disbelief, glancing at the woman. She smiled a small smile and shrugged. "Silly I know, but... Something told me I was suppose to follow it..."

Guerrero let go of her hand and shrugged. People had followed stupider and crazier things into the unknown. He himself in his younger years. He hissed as something wet and cold, and stinging, was applied to his side, kicking him from his thoughts.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, screwing the lid back on the bottle of cleaning solution. "I should have warned you first," she turned around to place the bottle back in her bag, giving a surprised gasp. "Oh... The cats gone."

And sure enough the cat was gone. Not a trace of it in sight. He furrowed his brow, but quickly relaxed and silently thanked the cat for it's unwanted company and help. At least it brought him someone good looking. Good taste, cat. "Got a name?" he asked, as she began to wrap up his side with gauges and bandages.

She pushed a strand of her dark hair out of her face and smiled, not looking up from his wound. "Elsie Blake. You?" she glanced up at him with a smile, before going back to tie off her bandages. "Guerrero."

**-0-**

He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling behind half-moon glasses. "You're getting soft, Minerva."

Minerva McGonagall adjusted her cloak and tilted her chin. "Him and his friend saved Harry Potter from the rubble of his home in Godric Hollow. Surely we couldn't let such muggles die?" The bright eyed man continued to smile at her, as they made their way down other back alleys in comfortable silence.

**Owl**

The big-eyed ball of fluffed feathers sat on the kitchen table, hooting softly, as his son fed it a cracker while he stared at the small letter with nice penmanship and a wax stamp on the back to keep it closed. He stared at it with distaste. Why couldn't it have skipped another generation?

"It's not going to go away by staring at it, you know?" Elsie's arms wrapped around his shoulder from behind, leaning down to kiss his cheek as she reached out and picked up the letter, reading her sons name. "You knew this was possible when he was born."

He did. But that didn't make this easier. Years ago, even today, he had always preferred to believe that Elsie had been joking about such things. That her father hadn't been what she said he was and that it would skip over his boy.

But after witnessing ten years of bizarre, unexplainable, events in his sons life. After watching him make his toys fly around the room when he was two, he secretly, deep down, knew that wasn't happening. His son pat the owl on the head, and the creature hooted happily, nipping lightly at his fingers in play.

"Be nice to her Jason." The boy looked up at his mother and grinned sheepishly. "I am! I was just petting her. She ate all the crackers!" he exclaimed, laughing as the owl flapped it's wings before settling. Elsie smiled and held out her arm, letting the owl hop onto it as she walked to the window and opened it, sticking her arm out. Jason ran over to watch as the owl flew off.

"Cool!" he exclaimed in delight. Guerrero smiled at his son and sighed. He knew they'd have to tell him. He just never knew it would be this soon. "Come here little dude. Got something your mom and I need to tell ya."

Jason looked back at his father then to his mom, who pushed him over to his father with a smile. She was positively glowing and proud of him. Guerrero wished she'd hate this as much as he did. Jason grinned and ran over to stand in-front of his dad. Guerrero ruffled his sons hair, before handing him the letter. Jason furrowed his brow and stared at the letter.

"Go on, dude. Open it," Guerrero whispered, smiling as his son eagerly ripped open the letter and began to read, his brown eyes going wide with each word, as Elsie squeezed her husbands shoulder. They had a lot to tell the boy.

**R & R**

**And that's it. Not much and most likely dumb, but whatever. I got it outta my system and now I think I'll be able to work on **_**All In Time's **_**next chapters :D**


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